This one came in under the radar for me. In the initial announcement from Warp, it was somewhere in the middle of the list, and since it wasn’t immediately identified as the new Chris Clark record (apparently he’s just going by his surname now), I didn’t take notice.
The lack of a huge promotional push could be interpreted as a lack of enthusiasm for the record, and the initial reviews were a bit lackluster, claiming the record was somewhat dull and monochromatic.
On first listen, I was inclined to agree. There’s nothing here approaching the hell-on-wheels ecstacy of the first album (“Proper Lofi” and “Diesel Raven” were absolutely exhilirating, even if the record had some real mis-steps), nor does it have the restless surrealism that made Empty the Bones of You so compelling.
In fact, the record starts on a very sedate note with “Herr Bar,” loping along to a typical sullen-but-woozy Chris Clark melody but featuring little in the way of development. There’s none of the sense of impending explosion that came so often on previous records, and “Frau Wav” seems to continue in this vein. The frantic lockstep percussion has been replaced with a miasma of jazz-tinged underpinnings, bringing to mind the looser moments in FSOL’s Dead Cities.
One thing that’s apparent througout is Clark’s odd sound: a static-tinged, wintry pall wired through with edgy strings and mournful hues. By the end of the second track, it comes clear that he’s aiming for something different: he’s no longer out to impress anybody; he’s just down to making good music.
It seems like an odd way of putting things, but that’s the case here. He’s assembled all the elements that define his approach, and having no need to prove anything, he’s settled in and allowed himself to stretch out. The result is something much subtler, and with patience, something quite rewarding.
“Herzog” is a distillation of his warped acid-house bass approach familiar from older tracks like “Indigo Optimus,” but here it’s presented without the frills as a showcase to his considerable melodic gifts.
“Ted” sounds almost traditional (that is, it pounds like crazy but doesn’t go skittering off into complete abstraction) until the end, when it seques into the tightly-reined loopiness of “Roulette Thrift Run,” which comes off as the kind of music Four Tet should have been making on his last album.
The hard-edged percussion continues through the first half of “Vengeance Drools,” then dissolves into the atmospherics of “Dew on the Mouth.”
“Matthew Unburdened” follows, and in its own quiet way, it’s the apotheosis of all that Clark’s done before. It’s the sound of sunlight working its way through a frozen copse of bare trees, with a mournful cello sawing away beneath snippets of treated piano and insistent but slow percussion. It’s a wonderful piece that feels like it’s over far too soon.
“Night Knuckles” is, dare I say, jaunty. It’s got the same nimble sort of melody that was apparent on Clarence Park, but freed of the cliched trappings. It plays like a short-circuting calliope that’s on the verge of falling appart, but each time it comes close it pulls itself back together.
“The Autumnal Crash” closes out the album on an invigorating, optimistic note. No, it’s not “happy” per se, but there’s something optimistic and undeniably…I don’t know. Think of Sigur Rós in their more triumphant moments. It pushes itself from one climax to the next without losing sight of its constituent elements, and by the end of it, you’re exhausted but somehow relieved, with just a pang of something lost.
Just when I think electronic music is in a rut, it seems something like this comes along to redeem it for me. There’s nothing revolutionary here; after all, this is a genre in which “revolutionary” is nothing more than an excuse for abstraction and self-indulgent obscurity these days. Instead, Clark’s chosen to sidestep expectations and simply create a great record, and thank goodness for it.